


Amidst Holy Fire

by DJubilant



Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Adepta Sororitas - Freeform, F/M, Faith and Fire, Forced Kissing, Non-con makeout, One Shot, Sadism, Sisters of Battle, mild mind break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJubilant/pseuds/DJubilant
Summary: Her hastened steps reverberated across the ornate tiled floors, filling her head with the rhythmic clatter of her ceramite armor clad stride. She’d have missed him, if he hadn’t given an off-hand cough. Miriya stalled, her echoing footsteps slowly fading, and they stared at each other.Torris Vaun.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------One-Shot based loosely in the first Sisters of Battle book, Faith and Fire. Taking place in between events when Vaun and his men attack the town of Noroc, after Sister Miriya leaves Verity to track down the psyker.





	Amidst Holy Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is more or less just a side idea that had nagged at me, after countless reads of Faith and Fire. Vaun is, on a few occasions, referenced as speaking in a sultry manner, and even leers at Sister Verity. So this is just a bit of steam that I wanted to blow off, writing-wise.

Neva was a doomed world.

‘As it should be.’

Miriya’s thoughts were a muddled mess. The actions of the day had worn on her mind and body, and she fought the itching need to rub the weariness from her eyes. She could hear the clattering of gunfire below her, and her vox-channel crackled through the tall pillars surrounding her as she moved to the lower levels.

“- _Vaun’s here_!.... Miriya…. Here!”

The fight with the mad witch’s lackey had, unfortunately, caused a few wires to short circuit, and all that she could make out was bits and pieces of the Cannoness’ sharp words amongst stable static. She cursed, clutching her pistol to her chest.

“I know,” she gritted out, static her only response. She wheeled around a corner, and dashed off again down a long stretched corridor that branched out in offshoot hallways every other couple of feet. Her hastened steps reverberated across the ornate tiled floors, filling her head with the rhythmic clatter of her ceramite armor clad stride. She’d have missed him, if he hadn’t given an off-hand cough. Miriya stalled, her echoing footsteps slowly fading, and they stared at each other.

Torris Vaun.

He stood before her, more clean and rested than she remembered seeing him in the tank of neuroliquid on the Black Ship. He looked upon her like a man seeing a woman for the first time, but as the seconds ticked by, that expression changed to one of recognition.

“Sister,” he purred, opening up his arms like he was inviting an old friend into an embrace as he took a few steps towards her. Miriya responded with gunfire. She didn’t care if she killed the man; It would be what he deserved, and the Ecclesiarchy would have to just deal with her choice. The psyker seemed to flick the shots away, and continued to walk towards her with lazy steps. Miriya took a step forward to better anchor herself, but a snap of Vaun’s fingers caused the floor beneath her to explode, as if on cue. She struggled to regain her footing and resume her fire, but the room became dark with smoke and debris. Miriya cursed loudly, wishing for her luck to just work out for her once today. She squinted, and tried to listen for footsteps or further rumblings around her. She heard a clatter, and turned briskly. The Battle Sister waited, but heard and saw nothing. A breathy chuckle filled the chamber, lapping at her mind’s edge, and Miriya couldn’t help the chilling shudder that ran down her spine. A blur of motion caught her eye, and out of the smoke came Vaun. He flung himself forward, and latched onto Miriya’s arm, clawing at the pistol in her hand. His momentum pushed them both to the ground, and a tussle ensued.

Miriya grabbed at Vaun’s limbs and clothes, fighting to regain some semblance of hope in her chest, continuously reciting prayers and litanies in her mind for some divine strength. They rolled once more, and Vaun ended up on top. His hands found purchase on the front of her armor, and held her from turning. With a grunt of exertion, he tugged her up, then forced her head back down on the broken mosaic tiles. A sickening crack sounded through the halls, and Miriya stopped her fight to blink against the black spots that dotted her visage. She laid there, her mouth opening in small gasps as Vaun took the chance to catch his breath. He knew that she was only dazed, and that when her senses returned to her, she’d be twice as angry as before. She reached out, and grasped the fabric that hung before her, pulling Vaun down as she took deep breaths to regain her thoughts.

"Do you remember the first words we shared on that cursed ship of yours?"

He muttered the words between breaths, his eyes darting around the dusty corridor. Miriya fought a wave of nausea that crashed over her, her head spinning. Her limbs felt like she was under water, her movement sluggish. He moved to hold the arm that still clutched her pistol down, pressing his weight against her. Miriya’s chest tightened as the added weight made it harder to suck in new air. His words floated through her conscious, the uncomfortable feeling of words spoken telepathically dredging her from her dizzying ailment, _'Alone at last.'_

“I’ll put you out of your heretical misery right here, witch!”

Miriya snarled through the dissipating haze, her hand clutching the front of Torris Vaun’s robes tightening. His own hands held her firing arm down with his whole weight, that cursed smile still plastered across his lips. His eyes flashed fire as she tried to move her legs under him, and he readjusted his own ankles to straddle her legs down.

“I’d love to see it, Sister! Show me that glorious purpose that has been thrust upon you and your order; Let your own precious God-Emperor pass his supposed judgement, both on me and this forsaken planet! Show me the power of your convictions!"

Miriya let out a guttural, beast like roar, and swung her plasma pistol up to the man's face, throwing his hold off of her. She took her chance, and squeezed the trigger.

_Click._

Her face paled at the sound; her gun had jammed. Her eyes met his, and a toothy grin graced his face. Her blood turned to ice, her body's temperature dropping to meet it. He bent slightly forward, his long fingers moving to graze her jawline with a light touch. His fingertips never quite fully remained on her flesh, but her skin seemed to still burn with witchfire in his wake.

“Shall I regale you with the knowledge of how I broke your fellow battle sister? Or better, maybe I should save my words for that pretty Hospitallier of yours? She’s got such a lovely color hair… It reminds me of… Someone,” he muttered into her ear, his breath hot. His voice was low and sultry, like when they'd first spoken aboard the Mercutio. Or more correctly, when he spoke to her against her knowledge.

Images of Lethe's face flashed in Miriya's mind, all ending with her throat torn open, eyes glazed and lifeless. She fought back a whimper as Verity's own visage overlapped and, eventually, replaced her sister's in Miriya's mind. She wasn’t sure if it was tears or sweat that pricked at the sides of her eyes.

'I need to get back to Verity,' she realized in a flash, 'She's useless on her-'

"Who's Verity?"

The voice ripped through her mind like a knife, the tone more letting her know he was there than an actual question. Vaun's eyes caught Miriya's, and a lump formed in her throat.

"You'd be wise to leave my mind free of your filthy, cursed touch, Witch," she hissed out between tight lips. A bit of blood slowly dribbled from her nose, and her stomach churned.

With a cool, knowing smile, Vaun flicked his fingers and a spark forced the useless bolter to fling from her hand. In almost the same fluid motion, he swatted her other hand free of his tunic with an amused expression. He brought both his hands together, as if cupping water to drink from an oasis. They then shot forward, grasping Miriya's wrists and slamming them to either side of her head. She fought to buck him off, but stopped as she felt his fingers thrum against her forearms. Her head snapped to the side, forcing herself to concentrate on the man's hands and calculating how best to retaliate against any attacks he might be building up.

Vaun whistled nonchalantly and Miriya watched in growing horror as his fingertips began to glow and crackle. Her face felt the warmth radiating from where her armor and the witch's hands met, and her wrists burned as if hot shackles had formed around them. A scream caught in her throat at the seething, white hot pain that began to seemingly prick and stream from her very bones, coursing through her arms. Miriya's vambraces began to turn a soft off white as the black ceramite began to warp and shift shapes. It's color began fluctuating between orange and red, and she saw the metal beginning to melt and drip down on the ground, cooling almost instantly.

She bit back the strangled cry in defiance, and she willed her fear down as she once again caught his gaze. Her face scrunched into a snarl, baring her teeth as she glared ice up at the psyker. He seemed rather pleased with his work, as he sat back and watched her upper torso flex and strain against the restraints.

“Now then, Sister, do be a dear and answer the question? I would hate to repeat myself.”

“You will not harm a hair on her head!”

The psyker let a low, rumbling chuckle roll from his chest. It resonated through her like a far off storm, thunderous and unsteady. He brushed away the blood that pooled under her nose, and dragged still warm fingers across her cheekbone, playfully tracing the Fluer-de-lis tattoo that lay beneath her eye.

“Oh, but I never said a thing about the hair on her _head_ ,” he teased.

A hand tightened in her hair for apparent emphasis, yanking her head back. Miriya flinched, a yelp bubbling from her throat. It was silenced with a hushed breath, and the witch’s own lips crushed hers. He tasted of tabac and ash, and Miryia felt his nails bite into her exposed neck as his fingers moved down her throat. They found her armor, and with a high pitched squeal, continued downward over her chest armor. Bile grew in her gut, threatening to lap at her esophagus, and she bit down, hard enough to bust his lower lip. Metal tang filled her mouth, but it only seemed to fuel Vaun's ferocity, as he pressed himself further against the Sister Superior. One of his legs thrust between her own, pushing the crimson cloth that usually draped down between her legs out of the way. His hips thrust forward, and his fingers brushed over her armored stomach, leaving searing, whining metal in a slow trail that ended at her thigh piece.

His fingers moved along the sharp edges, finding the open gaps that led to the Sister's under armor. The black material was all that was between her and his fiery touch. The air around their bodies seemed to vibrate with heat, the amount of sweat and heavy breaths between them condensing, rising up as steam. Her head began to spin from the lack of oxygen and the growing heat. A small spark of witchfire sparked from his hand that still held her head in place, but nothing caught. Instead it left a scorch mark on Miriya’s jet-black armor, burning a small hole in the black fabric at the base of her neck.

Miriya flinched away from the heat, wriggling free in the process from the smothering proximity of the psyker's mouth. She gasped for breath, and spat out blood that had pooled in her throat.

"What is it you holy folks say? The Emperor protects?"

He hummed softly with a smile playing on his blood smeared lips, showing visible delight in the snarl that built up in the Celestian's chest.

"You leave His name off your lips, or I swear I'll tear your tongue from you here and-"

He cut her off with a hush, and a gentle touch of her lips with his fingers. He winked down at her, and lazily dragged his warm fingertips over her cheek.

"My, my, Sister; I expected you of all people to be the last one interested in the goings on of my tongue," he stuck the dull pink muscle out for inflection, " Unless, I should find something new to garner your divine hatred?"

Torris' hand smoothed over her hair, dipping to the back of her head, before digging his nose into the crook of her neck. He breathed in smoke and sweat and holy oil, and crooned in a sensual tone. He quickly got to work, leaving painful bites and bruises as he made his way back up to the Sister's ear. He relished in the curses and vulgarities she flung his way, punctuated with gasps and keens of pained wails.

It excited a bit of him, and a split second thought crossed his mind about keeping the Sister as a pet, but the cacophonous sounds of far off explosions broke him from his reverie. Torris Vaun glanced out over the burning city, and sighed. His eyes caught a glimmer of an explosive charge right before it went off, and turned to face the Sister beneath him.

Her hair was disheveled, more so than before their little bout, and her lithe neck was starting to bloom a cascade of beautiful, royal purple bruises. Her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall, and her lips were smudged with his blood, offering her a faint rose tint to match her flushed cheeks.

"Ah, if only I had one of those fancy picto-slates," he mused, brushing some of her messy hair out of her eyes, " I'd very much like to keep this sight burned into my memory for later amusement."

A shaky breath of air broke from her lips, and Vaun smiled as he tugged at his own bunched up clothing. He stood, making a scene of brushing out the wrinkles that had formed from Miriya’s grasp on his chest.

"Fear not, dear Sister. It's not all bad," he began, stepping forward to loom over her chest. He looked down into her eyes, and finished, "Next chance we meet, I may just whisk you away with me. Lock your mind away and spend a bit of time together; wouldn't that be nice?"

Her silence was broken with the sound of static, and Verity's voice called out to her in the broken rubble.

"-riya! Miriya, where are you? These coelcopt-"

The Hospitallier's frantic voice crackled in and out, and Vaun nodded sagely. Miriya could hear far off gun fire, a long drawn out staccato drilling into the upper levels. Flecks of concrete fell from the ceiling, and Vaun made a disapproving ‘tsk’ sound with his tongue. He brushed a few pieces of the fallen dust from his shoulders, and the lazy smile that seemed to constantly make itself at home on his face returned as he once more focused his attention to the Battle Sister at his feet.

"Well my dear, it looks like my ride is here. Do take care of yourself, would you, _Miriya_?"

The last word lingered on his lips, and he relished in the agonized discomfort that she showed in the form of a shudder. He dragged her name across his tongue, working it into his memory with a zealous vigor, defiling it in ways she knew was meant for her. He walked towards the stairs she had came down, without even a glance elsewhere. He waved a hand, and the air took on a new wave of oppressive heat. The minutes ticked by, and Miriya heard an anguished wail pierce the air from the floors above her. It was like listening to a family receiving the news of a deceased loved one; emotion fueled and grief stricken. She knew instantly that it was Verity. Miriya coughed, and a new fire kindled in her chest. She gritted her teeth, and scrunched her face as she ripped her armor from the floor. She gave a sound that, to the untrained, would have sounded like a weeping cry, but in actuality, it was a battle roar. Breathing heavy in the swelling heat, her mind calculated how exactly she would find the witch, and burn whatever, or whoever, stood in her path.

She'd burn Neva itself to the ground, if necessary.


End file.
